Jigar Sagar: Balancing business success with family values and personal growth

The first thing that registers as we visit Jigar Sagar’s villa in Arabian Ranches is the quiet, unpretentious ease of a home that is properly lived in. Morning light settles across the living room. At one side, a small Shitzu named Coco rests behind a low pet barrier, dressed in a red frock and entirely unfazed by the conversation. The dog doesn’t bark, even when spoken to. It simply watches.

His children, Trishaan and Livana, drift in and out of the living room, getting ready for a photoshoot scheduled after the interview. Deepti, his wife, moves between them, checking details, listening in briefly, stepping away again. At one point, she mentions they’ve settled on white and blue for the outfits. The house is beautifully done, but without fuss.

This is where Sagar agrees to sit down, away from pitch decks and studio lights, to talk about the parts of life that rarely make it into his public story.

On paper, his story is easy to summarise. He is a Dubai-based Indian serial entrepreneur who has founded and scaled more than 30 ventures with a combined valuation exceeding $350 million. He is also a familiar face to regional audiences as an investor judge on The Final Pitch, known for his measured feedback and insistence on clarity. What is less visible is how little separation he believes exists between the man on screen and the one sitting here.

“I don’t think I’m a different person at work and at home,” Sagar says. “The titles change, but the values don’t. I’m focused, disciplined, and hardworking professionally, and that shows up the same way with my family.” He does not pause to soften the point. “At work, I mentor entrepreneurs and help them think responsibly about what they’re building. At home, that role shifts to my children. I’m intentional about guiding them, teaching them how to think, take responsibility, and grow into good human beings. My wife often says the same structure I bring to work is exactly how I show up at home. There’s no switch.”

As his professional responsibilities grew, family never became something he felt he needed to balance against ambition. He speaks instead about alignment, and about trust built over time.

“I don’t see family as an anchor,” he says. “I’m able to do what I do because my wife leads at home with strength and clarity, giving me the space to focus deeply on my work. That understanding was built over time through trust.” He is equally clear about the role his children play. “My children don’t hold me back; they push me to grow. We understand that while we’re a family, we’re also individuals on our own journeys. As long as I’m intentional about spending real time with them, they support my ambition rather than question it. That balance allows all of us to grow.”

Many of Sagar’s instincts about responsibility and leadership were formed long before he entered boardrooms. One lesson, in particular, still guides him. He remembers watching his father clean his own jewellery shop, even when there were employees who could have done the job.

“I learned early that no work is beneath you if it needs to be done properly,” he says. “When I asked my father why he cleaned the shop himself, he said a business is like a living, breathing baby. You don’t outsource the care of your own child, and you don’t let ego decide what you’re willing to do.” He sits with the memory for a moment. “That lesson shaped how I see responsibility and leadership.”

The same discipline governs how he protects his time. Rest, for Sagar, is not incidental. It is structured, scheduled, and non-negotiable.

“Rest doesn’t happen by accident,” he says. “If it isn’t scheduled, it disappears. I live by my calendar and prioritise deliberately.” His hierarchy is clear. “Family time and vacations come first. Personal growth, whether through training or learning new skills, comes next. Then new business development, followed by day-to-day operations. That structure ensures I’m choosing where my energy goes instead of constantly reacting. Rest, for me, is about staying clear and effective over the long term.”

When pressure builds, his instinct is not to add layers, but to remove them. He strips decisions back to facts and purpose.“When the noise gets loud, I simplify,” he says. “I return to purpose and facts and ask what’s actually true in that moment, based on evidence, not opinion.” He relies on a small group of trusted advisors, chosen for expertise rather than reassurance. “I listen carefully, test their input against context and data, and then make my own decisions. I don’t outsource judgment. Once the next step is clear, the noise loses relevance.”

Entrepreneurship, over time, has changed how he relates to uncertainty. What surprised him most was the emotional discipline required as responsibility grew.

“It taught me that I’m far more comfortable with uncertainty than I once believed,” he says. “Early setbacks felt personal. Over time, I learned to treat them as information.” He does not romanticise the process. “As responsibilities grow, so do fear and self-doubt. Learning to manage those emotions and stay clear-headed became as important as any business strategy. The real work wasn’t just building companies, but building emotional control.”

Ask him what success means now, and he resists the idea of arrival. “I don’t see success as something I’ve achieved,” he says. “I still feel like I’m at the beginning, and I expect to feel that way decades from now. That unfinished feeling keeps the fire alive.” His definition is deliberately fluid. “Success for me is tied to happiness, and happiness isn’t constant. It’s something you pursue consciously. Today, that pursuit is about enabling entrepreneurship. Tomorrow, it may look different. Progress matters. One step forward, as a parent, a leader, or an entrepreneur, is what creates happiness. That’s success.”

Judging on The Final Pitch reinforced that perspective rather than reshaping it. The experience, he says, reminded him that learning is reciprocal, not hierarchical.

“Every founder who steps in brings a lesson, if you’re open to it,” he says. It also sharpened his boundaries. “I realised I don’t need to please or support everyone. Visibility forces clarity. Time and energy are earned, and effort matters. Only those who show real commitment deserve sustained attention.” That realisation, he says, has made him more deliberate in how he engages with founders.

His days begin early. Mornings are reserved for training, before decisions begin competing for attention. Work unfolds in focused blocks rather than constant interruption. Evenings often involve mentoring and networking, conversations he finds energising because they are intentional. Family time is built into that rhythm, not squeezed around it. Each year, he travels with his family for around eight weeks, extended periods away that are less about switching off and more about perspective.

As the morning stretches toward early afternoon, the conversation spills outside for part of the photoshoot. It’s there, casually, that Sagar mentions his fondness for the colour dark lavender and for fine cars. His favourite, a dark lavender Ferrari parked in the garage, becomes part of the shoot. “I really love the colour,” he says, turning the key.

By the time the interview wraps up, the idea he returns to is rhythm. Avoiding burnout, he believes, is not about escape. “It’s about building a rhythm where work, personal growth, relationships, and family can coexist without constantly competing.” In this house, with its quiet order, that rhythm already feels in place.